North Meets South
by Nonamenonamenonameplease
Summary: Shortly after the events of Escape From Cluster Prime, Jenny and her friends take the day off for some quality time together. They end up meeting their counterparts at a barbecue party in a neighboring city.


Note: This has nothing to do with the Christmas special A Robot For All Seasons and also contradicts events post-Season 2. It's understandable that some of you may have trouble making heads or tails of anything here, so I hereby spread this news: I hear Escape From Cluster Prime was supposed to be a lead-in to Season 3. Kite Panago is my given name to the girl (whose disposition I'll certainly exaggerate) Brad danced with in Party Machine.

Life was looking up for Global Robot Response Unit XJ-9 a.k.a. Jenny Wakeman. Ever since she first met Carbunkle brothers Brad and Tuck, the robot girl finally had a chance to make a real name for herself after five mindless years of activation spent demeaning intergalactic invaders and ousting space junk. Although little success outlined climbing Tremorton High's social ladder, Jenny was plenty grateful anybody gave her a second look whatsoever; three friends was better than none despite Sheldon's persistent infatuation. Still, the robot girl also needed some more female friends, hence Misty's (who reciprocated the feeling) welcome presence since the Teen Team's breakup. Hearing her mother Nora Wakeman at long last see Jenny as more than some defense mechanism – a daughter – at that robot tradeshow felt like utter heaven, just as good as the Cluster's recent decline in authority on the newly dubbed Vega Prime.

On a lonely stretch of road two miles south of Tremorton, war didn't sleep according to a rogue automaton's internal sensors. Leftover pieces from several damaged Cluster droids had somehow reanimated themselves into some strange amalgamation that appeared a cross between a tarantula and a stinkbug. Six arms clutching one falchion each may have been its only offense, but its well-programmed skills made it a decent match against Jenny and Misty. The former distracted it via her Shiva sword form (something she'd wanted to use for a while) while the latter searched out opportunity to probe the thing's mind. "En garde!" Jenny declared between hits, "Hoo hah!"

Three different reactions outlined the bout with four people watching. Sheldon and Brad cheered their friends; Tuck shared the sentiment despite flinching; and a girl – Brad's dance partner from his and Jenny's super-secret party during Nora's last trip to Pluto – appeared intrigued. "Ooh!" Tuck cried, "What a spectacle! There goes Jenny with a left uppercut! No wait, that's in boxing. Um…I mean…I mean…"

"Whew," the girl commented, "You'd think I'd be used to this by now, but…Jenny really has quite a life."

"Every day in every way, Kite," Brad replied.

"Go, Jenny!" Sheldon spoke, "And Misty too!"

"Wait for it…" Misty analyzed, "…There!" Once the right moment came, the mutant girl showed off her talents and went right inside the amalgamation's 'mind', thereby temporarily stunning it. Jenny then paused to listen for the echoing voice. "Its weakness is on the upper right section of its chest where a right lung belongs; some strange, flashy box." Seconds after Misty departed, Jenny allowed their opponent no recovery and jabbed said weakness. A tiny explosion like a firecracker preceded the whole thing crumbling into harmless pieces once more. Taking no chances, Jenny finished the job through turning her arms into grinders for reducing each fragment to harmless dust.

"Clean sweep," Jenny announced, transforming into a scooter-like carrier vehicle, "Now let's get to that picnic." All except Misty (who could obviously fly) stood on their android friend as the procession headed for what seemed like a small town.

"I guess it's true what they say," Kite noted, "You never know someone unless you give them a chance."

"You better believe it," Sheldon said, "Jenny's the greatest." And Kite just smiled. She'd never been known to take a stand very often, usually going with the flow of social trends. Parties also came and went, but one might say the Cluster's previous invasion made her nonexempt from anybody else and more sensitive to Jenny's existence. Now she wanted to move up and become one of the robot's first 'normal' female friends.

Meanwhile, another commotion took place a couple miles further south of that same town. Three girls and a boy stood far aside as two other boys handled mutant blobs – born of some eerie mix of petroleum runoff and other dangerous chemicals – running amok in a huge polluted pond. One boy looked more like a humanoid ginkgo tree: top of head shaped like a hedge; branch arms able to become tentacular vines or human fingers of course with foliage; and bare feet changing into roots at will. The other boy was human like the onlookers but must've been a secret agent according to fighting skills. Fighting started when the tree boy flung razor-sharp leaves at defective pumps pouring on sludge which made the blobs ever stronger while dodging attacks and his human partner tossed smoke bombs containing dry ice to hinder enemy progress. "And a one!" the tree declared, "Two! Three! Four!"

Such appeared no different than the conflict up north had both groups been together for public comparison. Two girls, one apparently Northern European and the other Southeastern Asian, let their enthusiasm flow like Brad and Sheldon before. Like Tuck, the first girl's younger sister couldn't hide her flinching. And a third boy felt curious about this situation as Kite did the previous one. "Five!" the little sister added, "Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten!"

"Ellen," the older sister gently berated, "Yer gonna make Underwood lose count."

"I…I don't know what to say anymore," the curious boy spoke, "Everything that's happened at school and in downtown Basham…just…just…"

"Just doesn't compare, Pete," the SE Asian girl picked up, "Welcome to Underwood's life, and Quentin's. Sock it to 'em, guys!"

"C'mon, Underwood!" Quentin called, "I'm almost outta smoke bombs!" After destroying the last pump, Underwood then skimmed the pond and found a good spot to dunk his feet and take root. Everybody else diligently watched the tree boy lose human form, grow nine feet tall, and absorb the entire pond with a hefty slurp. Nothing other than a purified dry crater remained when Underwood reverted back to human form until a burst of clean water from his palms changed everything. The others could and did practically smell the fixed pond's idyllic clean scent; comparable to freshly scrubbed bathroom tiles. Underwood quickly stole a drink of course via roots before he and Quentin stood by their friends again.

"Lovely," Underwood decided, his arms becoming extra-thick vines for the others to ride upon, "I guess that mean's the job's done. Now for the barbecue."

Pete no doubt had similar intentions for the animate tree like Kite did for Jenny, according to his following commentary as they moved along. "Swell. I never rode a plant my whole life."

"Couldn't've picked a better time," Ellen responded, "Yippee!"

Said picnic in one of Basham's largest suburban parks was nothing short of typical, the town's population intermingling with faces from Tremorton. The Cluster's defeat probably earned Jenny the trust of her friends' parents, hence why it bothered nobody that she gave them a ride (Underwood's reason for his friends remained debatable at present). Basham seemed like quite a nice town even though Jenny and her group noticed something strange about their surroundings. "Far out," Brad began, "This neighborhood resembles ours. And that high school down a few blocks looks just like Tremorton High. What's the deal?"

"I see what you mean," Sheldon agreed, "That house is exactly the same as mine."

"And there's our house," Tuck pointed out, "And my school."

"Look!" Kite chimed, "A copy of my house!"

"And the same trees and roads," Misty included, "Are Tremorton and Basham in actuality sister settlements?"

"Could be," Jenny guessed, "Perhaps both places share the same designers or designing company." Jenny and Misty didn't entirely share the sentiments this time since they'd seen or experienced much stranger in previous days. The former might not be put off much because counterparts for her, Brad, Tuck, and Sheldon were already confirmed on Vega Prime. Oh well. In case Basham's innocent appearance did put the group off, Jenny and Misty could always put things right again. Unnecessary attention swamped neither group upon entering the park (with Underwood and Jenny reverting to humanoid form, and Misty touching down). Good; they wanted simple, freestyle enjoyment like surrounding faces. Both sides got so caught up that no member noticed his or her respective group dissipating amongst the crowd or yet spotted anyone from the other group.

"Grills," an aloof Brad noted, "Blankets…tables…people…more grills…an inflatable game…" Those last three words and some white inflatable amusement covered in orange, purple, pink, and cyan polka dots not only halted his momentum but also instilled great fervor. "Oooooh. What have we here?"

Ellen's sister paused and felt that very injection at the same second. "Whaddaya know; it's been too long. Competitive…instincts…kicking in." Both teenagers immediately zipped towards the inflatable apparently unpopular amongst young masses. Few played on it, and those who did ended up quitting early. The enthusiastic pair's following conversation resembled a mock-argument: getting psyched out while maintaining friendliness. In other words, they were just messing with each other.

"Look out, world!" Brad declared, "The stretch whiz intends to win!"

"Not if I beat you first, bub!" the girl said.

"You making fun of me? You making fun of me?"

"Better believe it! You're going down, Lena-style!" Mock glares preceded a patty-cake clap motion which a male adult needed interrupt.

"Excuse me. I own this inflatable here. Can I get your names, please?"

"What for?" the teenagers asked, ignoring the irked stares.

"Just curious, that's all."

"Brad Carbunkle."

"Lena Ayers."

Getting situated into place was history. The current young players must've taken the older ones' previous outburst literally, for none had qualms about Brad and Lena situating themselves for possibly an hour or so. Black strips outlining corners to create an illusionary square space would provide a challenge. "Keep in mind the imaginary lines between each corner," the man instructed, "You can only touch the circles inside the square. All others are off-limits. Need more reminders?"

"Nope," Lena assured, "I still remember the rules like I played this game last week; whoever slips up first loses."

"Same here," Brad chimed, "Now let's play, play, play!"

The game owner spun an arrow on a cardboard square designating limbs and dots. "Left hand, cyan." The teens followed it successfully. "…Right foot, pink." Again, another good move. "Left hand…"

"Hm, hm, hm…" Tremorton High's very own Principal Razinski wasn't known for listening to music on headphones, rather giving students detention slips if he even smelled any stowed in a locker a mile away from his office. But such restrictions didn't apply when enjoying oneself outside of education or business. He'd sat several hours in a recliner doing that and eating whatever his talons reached until a foam ball bumped his forehead, thereby disrupting the moment. Razinski turned off his music player, set it aside, and gave the source a stern look.

"Sorry, mister," a little girl apologized, grabbing the ball and running off.

Razinski then eyed some nearby grills and shrugged. "Eh, why not. I have sat around a while. Time to show off."

Speaking of showing off, a woman plopped a huge slab of lamb on a grill over some beef patties without another word. "Beat you again," she told the man operating it.

"Oh, Principal Tilson," the man sighed, "You always gotta be the center of attention, huh?"

"Yep. Being straight-up dusk to dawn in that school's no bushel of dandelions especially when you got some walking plant attending."

"True. How long's this thing cook again?"

"Depends on size. Judging by the grill's current temperature, I'd say 45 minutes."

Both adults' attention then hit a pork form Razinski added on. "Someone forget the head cheese?" he said, "I came prepared."

"Now you've done it," Tilson complained, "I was about to cook my Lamb Lover's Special. You ruined it…Though, I can't remember the last time I tasted head cheese…"

"Well, you haven't lived until you've tried my Head Cheese Snapper," Razinski declared, losing steam due to realization, "Then again…I could've used another grill…"

"So cook both together," the one grill owner stated, stepping back, "It's all yours, just try not to damage anything. I've still one last payment." Tilson and Razinski shrugged, accepted the offer, and worried bystanders via firing up the grill full blast. One added ingredient after another – vegetables, spices, vinegar-based condiments – delineated a cooking frenzy. Turning the temperature down after one minute, both principals accidentally burnt themselves: Razinski his left pinkie finger and a corner of his forehead, and Tilson her entire right palm. Blowing on and waving the burns preceded cooling them down with melted ice from a nearby cooler.

A woman's voice alerted the principals to a sight of many people devouring the combination dish. "You two could've torched the place, but it's finished."

"Hey!" the duo scolded, instantly joining the feed.

Both group splits certainly saw each member take crazy directions. By now, the one SE Asian girl had wandered into a suburban alleyway maze without realizing it. "What a day; nothing can spoil it. Clear skies…happy birds and humans…musty old fences…fresh gravel…strong tar…stinky garbage…" She jolted as comprehension activated and so observed her surroundings. "Oops. Wandered too far. Let's see…"

On the other side of one fence, Sheldon found himself in the same predicament. "Thirty meters due northeast, subtract a few degrees…oh!" And the two ran back exactly the way they came, only to stop shortly after seeing each other pass a fence opening four boards wide. Both curious souls stared eye to eye as if observing reflections in water or a mirror and made funny motions. When one held up a hand, so did the other; if one bent their head opposite ways once, the other followed suit. Both then stepped aside so that the fence concealed half their bodies, and another step concealed them completely. Next, the two quickly panned across each others' vision shuffling their toes. Three more 'dances' preceded staring yet again, followed by Sheldon placing his opened right hand against the girl's left before both dropped. "Umm…what're we doing?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Er, have we met before? You look familiar."

"Wow, that's what **I** wanna know! How freaky can you get? Anyway, the name's Sheldon Lee."

"I'm Zelda Mamench. Pleasure to meet you." The two then did a double-take. "Sheldon?"

"Zelda?"

"Whooaahhh!" the two excitedly cried. Again without realization, Sheldon and Zelda thrust themselves through the opening for reciprocal greetings. Both inspected each other's heads and necks while throwing out rapid comments like 'How'd you get here?' and 'This must be a dream!' until they calmed down long enough to discover a new situation.

"Oopsie," Zelda said, "Let's get unstuck first." Only a tinge of struggling without any major damage saw the two free themselves. "Like I was saying, where've you been all these years?"

"Eh, up north in Tremorton. Got into advanced robotics at home a few months ago."

"Fantabulous. I'm living here in Basham and into astropaleobotany. But, let's talk on the way back to the picnic." Sheldon nodded, exchanging a close watchful eye with Zelda as they proceeded. Surprise struck when they discovered how their paths forked into one after twenty-five paces, which they shrugged off. "So, you get around much?"

Principals of course weren't the only school faculty enjoying time off here today. Mr. Pigott and his female comrade – another teacher as well as another native here – found their amusement via a round of Cat's Cradle. Outside faces watched the fingers wiggle, gnarl, and shape in awe. "All done," the woman announced, having weaved seven mountains.

"Not bad, Miss Marshall," Pigott complimented, holding up his display of a dead log. The two continued on as quickly as they'd paused.

Marshall then presented a woven floral arrangement. "Look! My neighbor's garden!"

"Wonderful." Pigott next showed all a canine face. "Coyote says hello!" Three more displays preceded the teachers clumping together hands and string in a conglomerate weaving, both keeping a sharp eye on it while bending their heads away. Hands literally all moored was the least of anyone's worries; neither teacher could agree how to identify the shared mess resembling some unidentifiable arachnid. "Um…a spider? Possibly the barn spider, Araneus cavaticus?"

"No, it's gotta be that one species of tick," Marshall suggested, "Ixodes dammini, the deer tick."

"Or is it Latrodectus mactans a.k.a. the black widow?"

"I know. Maybe it's Dermacentor variabilis, or the wood tick."

"Hmm…" both chorused, eventually loosening their hands from the mess and thereby distorting the new weaving.

Like other small children, Tuck and Ellen found themselves somewhat lost in the park though close to a nearby playground. Reaching the swing set concurrently, they exchanged greetings all the while situating themselves on the swings at the same time. They figured the equipment might somehow aid in locating their comrades since adults told them staying in one place was the wisest action when lost, and it also gave them something to do. "Hi," Tuck started.

"Hey," Ellen returned. Neither yet noticed further simultaneous actions: gaining momentum, and rocking back and forth in identical speed.

"Okay," Tuck muttered, "Now where could Brad and the others be?"

"I wonder where Lena and our friends snuck off to?" Ellen wondered.

"Hmmm," both chorused. Silence other than wind rushing by and the pounding of their feet against the dirt dominated the moment. Curiosity alongside enjoyment filled both young heads. Tuck couldn't recall the last time he'd been roped into a public session that excluded hideous mutants or other, dangerous traps, or perilous journeys above the heavens. Had anyone compared the pair's faces, Ellen no doubt shared the same sentiments. Once both young wanderers finally noticed each other's identical movements, Tuck attempted thrusting his body about while still in place to move faster. Still, neither he nor Ellen could prevent mimicking as she followed suit. The two all of a sudden felt competitive yet almost friendly like their siblings even if it didn't show.

Ellen and Tuck soon tired, slowed little by little to a halt, hopped off the swings, walked six paces forward, and caught their breath while wondering. "Why do you keep copying me?" Tuck asked.

"Me?" Ellen said, "What about you?"

"Eh, touché. I'm Tuck Carbunkle."

"And I'm Ellen Ayers. Wanna go eat something?"

"Sure." The two proceeded on, discarding said piece of adult advice. "So, you come here often?"

"Oh yeah. It's one of my favorite places in the whole world. I'm just glad my friend Underwood's off-duty now so my sister Lena doesn't drag me into another dangerous situation. Oh sure, I admire Underwood's powers, but there is a time and place for everything."

"I know what you mean. My brother Brad always has to force a piece of the action on me whenever our friend Jenny's gotta save the world. After the Cluster's last invasion, we all need the biggest break we can get." Previously undiscovered relations now overshadowed half of both towns' signature sextets.

Some Tremorton visitors greeted their Basham counterparts more abruptly than others. Near two food tables, Nora wasted no time introducing herself formally to the first individual crossing her path. Quite uncharacteristic concerning her past behaviors as well as her duties, but incidents following Jenny's first acquaintance with the Carbunkle brothers did plenty to alleviate family isolation. "Hello there. As you probably know, I am the mighty Dr. Nora Wakeman."

"Wakeman?" a man said, "The Dr. Wakeman of Skyway Patrol, who appeared in that one issue of Science Friction?"

"The same. And you are?"

"Dr. Paul Bonaparte, astropaleobotanist extraordinaire."

"Really? The same one from Razor Petal #59?"

"You bet." Nora and Paul's hands clutched various foodstuffs to munch on while the conversation progressed. As both found out, if nothing else, the event better reminded them that they weren't alone in their problems. Regardless of similarities, neither really believed one stole scientific ideas from the other. "Anyway, other than all his procrastination for duties and insistence on assimilating with the local population, I think Species 09 is coming along good."

"I know what you mean. My XJ-9's got the same problems, but she hasn't let me or the universe down too badly. She even liberated a planet as of late."

"Wonderful. Now if only I could get my colleagues at the plant display house to respect us both a little more. Especially that one double-crosser who stole my idea and made a half-cat spruce girl."

"We ought to sue them both. But take my advice: Don't ever build children."

"Yeah, well, maybe we shouldn't grow them either."

Introductions came in fours when constricted to the two main groups but in sevens when including other individuals acquainted with Underwood and Jenny. Shy Kite and Pete followed suit while simultaneously reaching for the same fruit bowl. Pantomiming rather than words expressed a semi-disagreement over who got the first chance to eat complementing indecision of what specifically to munch. One food scramble saw Kite clutching an apricot and Pete an apple. A second scramble had the male teen holding a grape bunch and the female a plum. Neither really studied each other's faces until after a third round during which Kite chose a pear and Pete a cherry, followed by the indecisive duo placing the fruits back down. And when acquaintanceship did kick in, they felt the same mutual informality as Zelda and Sheldon. "Kite? Kite Panago? Is that you?"

"Pete Nantucket?"

"So, you do still remember my name. And in return, I still remember yours."

"Who could forget a name or face? We haven't seen each other since…since…"

"It's been around…around at least…errr…"

"Ten years," both concluded, feeling hungry. Kite fancied herself with the pear while Pete chose the apple

"Yeah, that's it," Pete said, "Preschool seems like a lifetime ago. How's life treated you since then?"

"A little better, as of late." The two unwittingly distanced themselves a short way from the table discussing their years between bites. "I've made and lost friends over the years, but things appear to be looking up. Tremorton hasn't been the same as I remember since my new friend Jenny came to school. And you?"

"Ditto. Basham's seen weird days itself what with this guy named Underwood turning the place upside-down. One would think we townies were cut off from the outside world because nothing exciting ever happened around here back then. Messes now come in threes." A crash from behind startled them, so they turned around to find some clumsy babbling culprits wasting not a minute picking up overturned dishes and table.

"You were saying?" Kite stated.

"I take that back: They come in fours."

Intense action modified other meetings. In an empty basketball court, Quentin for no reason whatsoever felt the urge to flaunt his martial arts skills. A karate chop here, a kick there, perspiration, and war cries kept the lot alive. Playfully jealous, Misty leapt out from an alleyway exit and acted along. Matching skills with one other soon followed around a minute of battling thin air. Releasing one's true competitive spirit seemed as today's theme no matter how zealous the contenders' faces: Brad and Lena; Razinski and Tilson; Tuck and Ellen; Pigott and Marshall; now Misty and Quentin. The fifth duo eventually brought their performance to a close to catch their breath. "So, think the invisible audience is satisfied?" Misty wondered.

"Pretty much," Quentin decided, both souls immediately facing a brick wall.

"Let's give it up for…" Misty began, "…What's your name?"

"Agent Quentin, or Quentin at any rate. No last name. And you?"

"Just call me Misty."

"Okay. Time to bow." And they did, before departing back towards the park. Then came undiscovered relations started off by Quentin's amazement at Misty's ability to become steam as she passed through the chainlink fence whereas he preferred leaping over. "Nice trick, Misty. You could do a lotta damage with that if you wanted."

"Well, I'm not alone," she replied, noting her partner's equipment belt, "So Quentin, what'd you mean by that 'agent' deal?"

"Few people know this right now, but I used to be partners with my friend Underwood who's a mutant ginkgo tree in an independent organization housed someplace outside of town. He got released early, and my chance came when our sector shut down last week. Now I'm just getting used to society again."

"Sounds like my life. I used to be part of this group called the Teen Team which traversed outer space to restore order wherever needed. There was our muscle-bound leader Orion with sonic beams, and jokester Squish could do like me except as a liquid. We broke up not too long ago; don't ask why."

Even a few antagonists had their doppelganger-based pleasantness today. Near the same inflatable where Brad and Lena continued their game, Don Prima swapped words with a girl just as egotistical. The Krust cousins, their group, and some boys stood a bit farther away so as to give the egoists privacy. "Your hair looks more fabulous than a sunset, Symone," Don complimented.

"You're too kind, cousin," Symone returned, "I use only pure oil extracted from the finest imported kiwi."

"Kiwi, eh? I much prefer peanuts." The cousins then observed their unofficial cliques taking a shine to one other and ignoring everything else. Don particularly minded Brit and Tiff's counterparts. "Those boys the Palmier brothers, I take it?"

"Yep; Alven and Frederick Palmier, although they respectively prefer being called Al and Fred. And those girls must be these Krust cousins you mentioned a while ago."

"Their names are Brittany and Tiffany; Brit and Tiff for short." The other ten soon noticed a wicked eye twinkle emanating from respective two-timers, thereby becoming mush. Don and Symone merely hummed in satisfaction.

One last meeting remained for Basham and Tremorton's signature protagonist groups. Jenny may not have been entirely lost down an enclosed suburban lane overshadowed by willows since she contained a built-in navigation system, but she was half-oblivious about that and her surroundings. The robot girl prepared a fighting pose upon spotting Underwood two miles ahead, the tree boy copying along. Then came exchanged yells as both inched their ways closer. "Who's there?" Jenny called.

"Hello?" Underwood returned.

"Hey!"

"Who are you?"

"Hello there!"

"Hey there!"

"Hello?"

"Who's calling me?"

"Isn't anyone gonna answer?" both concluded. Eyes opened, the two found themselves literally in each other's faces and so put some distance in between. "Um, hi?"

At that, Underwood and Jenny filled the halves of their groups who previously knew or knew about their counterparts. "Hey, I know you," the former spoke, "You're that robot girl who took care of those dynamite packs at Tremorton's dump and…and…"

"Global Response Unit XJ-9 a.k.a. Jenny Wakeman; just call me Jenny. And you must be that same tree boy who prevented Basham's power plant from sinking by growing an entire allamanda garden and…so on."

"Secret Ginkgo Species 09, or as I prefer, Underwood Bonaparte. But Underwood will do."

"Nice. What say I introduce you to some of my friends back in the park?"

"Whaddaya know? I was thinking the same thing.

"Right foot, pink," the inflatable-game owner announced. At this point, Brad and Lena's facial muscles practically reached limits almost as soon as those in their limbs. Nervousness over landing on each other instilled giggles. "Left foot, purple." But that's when the duo could proceed no longer.

"Can't reach it," Lena puffed.

"Me neither," Brad agreed, "Looks like we're taking home silver medals."

"Alright then," the man said, "Game over." So the teens forfeited their positions, slid off the inflatable, relaxed, walked further down to make way for new players, and exchanged congratulations.

"Nice job out there," Brad started, "You really had me riveted."

"Likewise," Lena answered, "You're a worthy opponent." That's when their younger siblings arrived.

"Going all out, huh?" Ellen spoke.

"I'll assume you got enough action," Tuck guessed, receiving nods. Eight more entrances transformed the quartet into a dozen.

"Interesting," Misty commented, "We've all met our copies."

"You better believe it," Sheldon said, meeting his group's gazes, "I want you all to meet my old friend Zelda Mamench."

"In return, I want all of you to meet Sheldon Lee," Zelda told her group. (A/N: The ensuing four lines go the same way.)

"I want everyone to meet Secret Ginkgo Species 09: Underwood Bonaparte," Jenny announced.

"Say hello to Global Response Unit XJ-9: Jenny Wakeman," Underwood chimed.

"People, this is Kite Panago," Pete put in, "We go all the way back to preschool."

"Friends, I'd like you all to make Pete Nantucket's acquaintance," Kite added. And of course, the rest introduced themselves.

"I'm Brad Carbunkle."

"I'm Lena Ayers."

"Tuck Carbunkle."

"Ellen Ayers."

"I'm Misty."

"And I'm Quentin."

"Not that anybody cares, but okay," came Brit's voice. Protagonists followed the sound only to come face to face with tonight's antagonists. Krust cousins, Palmier brothers, and their followers now itched to give Jenny, Underwood, and their friends a miserable time with the trailing Prima cousins innocently rolling their eyes.

"What a lovely display of losers," Al taunted, instigating annoyed looks.

"Yeah, losers," Fred cracked, "You mud-brains are so stupid, you put a watch back in the shop because it had ticks!" Antagonists laughed heads off (though, the Primas just giggled) while annoyed protagonists just stared.

"Oh, wait!" Tiff chimed, "Get this! Those losers are so stupid, they got booted off the football team because their parents made 'em promise not ta pass anything unless they said please!" More laughter ensued. Clearly having taken enough, the protagonists stepped closer forward and made the chuckles (though not the taunts) cease. "Whatsamatter? Cat got yer tongues?"

Bad choice of words. Nobody was prepared to see the good conglomerate go atypically berserk. Brad, Lena, Tuck, and Ellen babbled. Sheldon made an amateur velociraptor screech with Zelda grunting like a tyrannosaurus. Quentin chewed on his shirt. Misty mock-strangled herself. Pete marched in place as if on a sugar rush. Kite hyperactively rubbed her hair. Jenny barked like a dog and swiped her hands at thin air. Underwood hissed like a cat, meowed poorly, and also swiped. However, only synchronized leers utterly forced the bad conglomerate to back off. "Get away from us, you psychos!" all twelve bullyish voices chorused. People continued staring until the good dozen relaxed and smiled as if nothing happened. So what if it seemed out of character? Who cared what detriments might befall their social lives? Enjoyable days like this didn't occur too often. Then came Nora and Paul's interruptive presence.

"Ah, XJ-9. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"Hey, Mom. Enjoying the picnic? We sure are."

"Yes. Did you dispose of that Cluster amalgamation properly?"

"Sure did. Ground it up into fine dust."

"Species 09, did you eliminate the blob runoff threat?" Paul added.

"Taken care of, Dad," was the answer. And for once, the parents gave no second thoughts about letting their synthetic children play with old and new friends alike for the event's remainder.

"I had this weird dream last night," Brad said at 10:00 AM the very next morning near Mezmer's. An eventless new day saw Jenny, Sheldon, and the Carbunkle brothers conversing about the previous day's picnic. Ostensibly, the group had so good a time then that it all felt too much like a dream. "This girl named Lena Ayers and I took home silver medals in our minds because neither of us won a game we hadn't played for a couple years."

"No joking," Jenny said, "That tree boy Species 09, or Underwood Bonaparte, kept returning echoes to me down this dark suburban lane."

"Oh! Oh!" Tuck announced, "I and this girl my age named Ellen had fun on the swingset."

"And **I** could swear I met my old friend Zelda Mamench," Sheldon threw in. That's when something in the distance halted them. Who should meet their gazes from one block down the street but none other than Underwood and his group (sans Pete and Quentin), feeling just as surprised. Exchanged smiles and friendly waves came next.

"Whoa," Ellen commented, "Looks like it wasn't a dream after all."

"One word: trippy," Lena spoke.

"What do you think it all means?" Zelda wondered.

"It means both our parties are moving up in the world," Underwood said. Non-humans on both sides should know even without bartering the notion through words; facial contortions said it all.

The End


End file.
